What's So Good About Picking Up the Pieces ?
Am I the Trigger To Your Gun ?
Chesney’s POV
I woke up with a massive headache, probably half from the alcohol and half from my falls. I checked my phone, luckily I had a text from Shayla that she had gotten to her house fine last night. I shuffled over to the kitchen and closed the shades so the sunlight didn’t kill my eyes. I tried not to glance out the window at the empty beach house next door as I did so, but my gaze ended up there anyway. I sighed and started brewing some coffee. I went to shower and change into some clean pj’s. It felt good to wash the smell of alcohol off me, and my heavy makeup. I made my way back to the kitchen afterward, the smell of coffee cheering me up a little.
I opened my eyes, confused at the angle I was looking at my kitchen at. I was on the floor….I must have blacked out. I slowly got up, and the back of my head was throbbing. I checked the time; it was noon now, the last time I had looked at the clock, when I was making coffee, it was 10:30… So what did this mean ? Should I be worried about my health ? I was afraid to go to the doctor, because I didn’t want to be checked into a mental hospital, which would surely happen if they saw how little I took care of myself. A sob escaped my lips, and I sank to the floor. I wailed Vic’s name, the first time I’d said it out loud since we’d split up. I sobbed harder than I ever had before, my body shaking with the intensity. In that moment, I was very nearly going to end it all. I could just write a goodbye letter and go to sleep and never wake up…
The way that sadness works is one of the strange wonders of the world. If you’re afflicted with a great sadness, you may feel as if you have been set on fire, not only because of the enormity of the pain, but also because your sadness may take over your life, like the smoke from a flame. You might find it difficult to recognize anything except your own grief, the way smoke covers a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.
I was being smothered by my sheer depression, and I was slipping away with each passing day. It was becoming harder for me to mingle with society without a breakdown. I couldn’t be with people and I couldn’t be alone. Suddenly my perspective whooshed and I was far out in space, watching the world. I could see millions and millions of people, all slotted into their lives; then I could see me—I’d lost my place in the universe. It had closed up and there was nowhere for me to be. I was more lost than I had known it was possible for any human being to be.
Vic’s POV
I sprinted back to the trailer, and slipped back inside. I had a plan, and I went over every detail in my head a dozen times until I had everything figured out. I took my meds, then made breakfast for the guys. We all got up and rehearsed, and the day was a blur of music and lyrics.
We toured around the upper west part of the country for the next couple of weeks, and I was still slowly going insane. It had been a little over two months since the night I had broken up with Chesney. One night after one of our early shows, we all headed to bed early. I waited until the clock struck eleven, and then I grabbed my duffel bag and slipped silently out into the night. I walked to the corner of the street, and then I started flat-out running. I came to a place where I could hail a cab, and I instructed him to take me to the airport.
I bought a plane ticket, departing at midnight. I was nervous that one of the guys would wake up and come find me, but they never did. I thanked my lucky stars that I was able to get a flight so soon, and I walked onto the place, taking my seat.
The flight was about an hour and a half, and I settled in with butterflies in my stomach. I sat by the window, and the view inspired me to do some writing. I was already feeling a lot better, my mood had changed drastically. This might end up hurting me worse in the long run, but it was worth it for some temporary relief.
In the words of Shakespeare- these violent delights have violent ends.
I pushed people aside as I made my way off the plane. It was almost two in the morning, and the airport barely housed two hundred people. It was quiet, and I made my way outside to hail yet another cab. One stopped for me across the street, and I stepped of the curb, speed-walking toward it. I didn’t see the headlights coming toward me, I didn’t see them until it was too late.
Chesney’s POV
I finally got my pathetic self off the floor to drink my coffee. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the microwave door- My hair was wild, and my eyes were red and puffy. My face was streaked with dried tears, and my lip was still quivering. My collarbones stuck out, and I was paler than snow. I looked like a walking corpse. I thought about how skimpy my dress had been the night before, and how disgusting I must have looked. I shuddered, hating myself even more. I had been too caught up to think about what a bad idea last night had been…
I suddenly got the urge to cook. I cleaned myself up and tied my hair into a messy bun, then turned on some lamps around the house, and put the tv on for background noise. I kept the shades drawn, the day was too gloomy and overcast. I set to work making some pancakes, and soon my house was smelling delicious and looking inviting. I found myself smiling out of nowhere, and I sat down with my plate in front of me, humming along to the tv.
It looked like the cry had done me some good, it got my mind off things for a little while, and I was able to keep my pancakes down. I did some cleaning around the house and then settled down to watch a lifetime movie, content, if only for a little while.
I woke up with a massive headache, probably half from the alcohol and half from my falls. I checked my phone, luckily I had a text from Shayla that she had gotten to her house fine last night. I shuffled over to the kitchen and closed the shades so the sunlight didn’t kill my eyes. I tried not to glance out the window at the empty beach house next door as I did so, but my gaze ended up there anyway. I sighed and started brewing some coffee. I went to shower and change into some clean pj’s. It felt good to wash the smell of alcohol off me, and my heavy makeup. I made my way back to the kitchen afterward, the smell of coffee cheering me up a little.
I opened my eyes, confused at the angle I was looking at my kitchen at. I was on the floor….I must have blacked out. I slowly got up, and the back of my head was throbbing. I checked the time; it was noon now, the last time I had looked at the clock, when I was making coffee, it was 10:30… So what did this mean ? Should I be worried about my health ? I was afraid to go to the doctor, because I didn’t want to be checked into a mental hospital, which would surely happen if they saw how little I took care of myself. A sob escaped my lips, and I sank to the floor. I wailed Vic’s name, the first time I’d said it out loud since we’d split up. I sobbed harder than I ever had before, my body shaking with the intensity. In that moment, I was very nearly going to end it all. I could just write a goodbye letter and go to sleep and never wake up…
The way that sadness works is one of the strange wonders of the world. If you’re afflicted with a great sadness, you may feel as if you have been set on fire, not only because of the enormity of the pain, but also because your sadness may take over your life, like the smoke from a flame. You might find it difficult to recognize anything except your own grief, the way smoke covers a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.
I was being smothered by my sheer depression, and I was slipping away with each passing day. It was becoming harder for me to mingle with society without a breakdown. I couldn’t be with people and I couldn’t be alone. Suddenly my perspective whooshed and I was far out in space, watching the world. I could see millions and millions of people, all slotted into their lives; then I could see me—I’d lost my place in the universe. It had closed up and there was nowhere for me to be. I was more lost than I had known it was possible for any human being to be.
Vic’s POV
I sprinted back to the trailer, and slipped back inside. I had a plan, and I went over every detail in my head a dozen times until I had everything figured out. I took my meds, then made breakfast for the guys. We all got up and rehearsed, and the day was a blur of music and lyrics.
We toured around the upper west part of the country for the next couple of weeks, and I was still slowly going insane. It had been a little over two months since the night I had broken up with Chesney. One night after one of our early shows, we all headed to bed early. I waited until the clock struck eleven, and then I grabbed my duffel bag and slipped silently out into the night. I walked to the corner of the street, and then I started flat-out running. I came to a place where I could hail a cab, and I instructed him to take me to the airport.
I bought a plane ticket, departing at midnight. I was nervous that one of the guys would wake up and come find me, but they never did. I thanked my lucky stars that I was able to get a flight so soon, and I walked onto the place, taking my seat.
The flight was about an hour and a half, and I settled in with butterflies in my stomach. I sat by the window, and the view inspired me to do some writing. I was already feeling a lot better, my mood had changed drastically. This might end up hurting me worse in the long run, but it was worth it for some temporary relief.
In the words of Shakespeare- these violent delights have violent ends.
I pushed people aside as I made my way off the plane. It was almost two in the morning, and the airport barely housed two hundred people. It was quiet, and I made my way outside to hail yet another cab. One stopped for me across the street, and I stepped of the curb, speed-walking toward it. I didn’t see the headlights coming toward me, I didn’t see them until it was too late.
Chesney’s POV
I finally got my pathetic self off the floor to drink my coffee. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the microwave door- My hair was wild, and my eyes were red and puffy. My face was streaked with dried tears, and my lip was still quivering. My collarbones stuck out, and I was paler than snow. I looked like a walking corpse. I thought about how skimpy my dress had been the night before, and how disgusting I must have looked. I shuddered, hating myself even more. I had been too caught up to think about what a bad idea last night had been…
I suddenly got the urge to cook. I cleaned myself up and tied my hair into a messy bun, then turned on some lamps around the house, and put the tv on for background noise. I kept the shades drawn, the day was too gloomy and overcast. I set to work making some pancakes, and soon my house was smelling delicious and looking inviting. I found myself smiling out of nowhere, and I sat down with my plate in front of me, humming along to the tv.
It looked like the cry had done me some good, it got my mind off things for a little while, and I was able to keep my pancakes down. I did some cleaning around the house and then settled down to watch a lifetime movie, content, if only for a little while.
♠ ♠ ♠
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